


A Moment in the Graves

by unmeiiii



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Elves, Emerald Graves, F/M, Love, Pep Talk, elves in love, mage lovers having a moment, mage pals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 19:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11720949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unmeiiii/pseuds/unmeiiii
Summary: After a confession of doubt from Inquisitor Lavellan, Solas takes her on a walk through the Emerald Graves.





	A Moment in the Graves

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I should preface that Solas is a very... _complex_ character. I believe his character is one of the most ambiguous among the DA:I companions, and although that is something that I do admire, writing him was a challenge. I just hope that in this little short that I did him justice. I also kept the descriptions of Inquisitor Lavellan simple as to not feel you couldn't connect to her through your own Inquisitor. That said, I hope you enjoy and please tell me if you'd like to see more shorts.

## A Moment in the Graves 

It was a moment between moments, the split second of their eyes meeting across the battlefield to ensure each other. Purple, blue, and bright red rays were cast between them and their enemies, blood spurted on the ground before their feet, and the halted breath before each impale. It was the climax of the battle, and their eyes meeting the others’ was a small assurance that she made sure to take with each fight.

Inquisitor Lavellan was only said title for so long to where it still felt foreign on her tongue. Through each briefing with her associates at the war table they’d address her as such, and she’d feel the weight on her chest. It was the same with dealing with ambassadors, liaisons, and the like. The weight was heavy and it suffocated her. 

Because of the suffocating and tedious job of being a diplomat, she took solace and joy into being on the field.

It’s when she’s shooting lightning from her staff and into her enemies that she can breathe. When she sees relieved soldiers thanking her for her arrival as they press on their wounds on their sides, and the villagers getting their food and the reassurance that things will be okay, and seeing peace albeit short - that is when she feels no weight. These are the parts of being Inquisitor that she did not mind.

But the most refreshing breath of air, was his eyes.

He doesn't say much out on the field to her in any romantic fashion. Not that she expected him to, and a part of her appreciates his discretion for his love for her. But when he glances at her as they trek, rest at the camps, or in this case on the battlefield, it is with so much care and appreciation and love. Unfortunately, this time it distracted her from the battle and caused her to catch a rage demon’s flames. 

Her attention was back on what was in front of her, and with a last forceful attack of chain lightning, the demon’s essence seeped back into the Fade.

The battle ended at last, with the remains of demons scattered on the ground. She and her companions were closing a rift in the forests of the Emerald Graves. It was one of the last ones, and the Graves were now more stabilized than before. It was one of their last missions to complete before departing back to Skyhold.

The team went back to the nearest camp to recover from any wounds, restock on essentials and to rest. Inquisitor Lavellan took her place at the bench near the hearth, and removed the damaged chainmail from her right arm. Her skin was badly burned, some bloody skin layers exposed and singed. Now that her previous adrenaline from the battle had faded, she started to feel the pain of the burn and groaned. A few Inquisition soldiers quickly went to her side, but she shook her head. 

Solas eyed Inquisitor Lavellan’s wounds on her arms from across the way, and saw her pained expression crossing her features as she tended to it with a weak healing orb. She was too caring to let the healers tend to her when they had others who needed healing. She felt responsible, and he admired that selflessness. 

He approached her with green healing magic swirling in his palm, 

“Here, lethallin. Let me assist.” 

Sitting beside her on the bench, he placed his hand gently over hers. He combined his magic with hers, and the light from the orb illuminated more intensely than before. The burns faded into the smooth flesh on her arm. 

She exhaled with relief, and smiled weakly. “Thank you, Solas. I’m embarrassed of my performance in that last battle. The rage demon got too close before I could defend myself.” 

“Ah. Well, to be fair you did close about four other ones here. You are exhausted.” 

“The Inquisitor cannot afford to be exhausted, now can she?”

Her eyes held his for a moment before they shifted to the burning green scar on her hand. She opened and closed her hand experimentally with a solemn expression. “I never expected this to be so…” 

“Draining?” He guessed, noting her tired eyes. 

She nodded. “Each rift that I close, every spell I cast with this, I can feel everything in my body burn and half of my strength is gone every time,” the Inquisitor paused for a moment and caressed the scar with her right index finger, “and not only physically. Because I happened upon a situation, I end up with a scar that rules my life and essentially has to save the world.” 

“Would you have preferred not to have been bestowed with the Anchor at all?” 

She looked up at him again, her tired eyes tinged with sadness. “I just would like to know why it had to be me. Why did the gods choose me, a humble servant of my Keeper, an unremarkable, lowly elven girl? ” 

Solas let her question linger in the air before standing up abruptly with his hand outstretched towards her. “Come with me, lethallin.” 

“But wh-”

“We have been so busy clearing rifts and focusing on our mission, that we never took time to appreciate the beauty and history of this place.” 

The Inquisitor took his hand and interlaced her fingers with his. Now that they were finished with stabilizing the land, she supposed she could take some time to actually explore and take in the Emerald Graves. 

Solas guided her to the place where the giants had previously been congregating, with the statues and leftover ruins that they passed to clear the area. As they walked, she savored the warmth of the sun peeking through the leaves, and closed her eyes for a brief moment with a smile. The soft hum of the river flow nearby and the whispers of the wind calmed her, brought her peace. A part of her wished she could stay here forever, with him at her side and with no war to deal with. 

She’d also had felt how thin the Veil was, the tingling of essences from the past seeping through her skin. It was as if it was reacting to her presence, out of welcome or not, she did not know. 

The Inquisitor would occasionally graze her hand on the bark of the Vallasdahlen and give a silent prayer of thanks to their service. It was all she felt she could do as they were walking in their graveyard. She hoped the spirits would hear her. 

She leaned on his arm and after a few quiet moments, she broke the tranquil silence. 

“The Emerald Graves humbles yet angers me.” 

They had then approached one of the statues of Andraste, commemorating the events that took place so long ago. It stood proudly, almost mockingly in her eyes. As she read the words on the stone, heat was conjured in her chest and her jaw tightened.

_‘Elves were guilty of the greatest sin, of turning from the Maker. But we will show them mercy, for that is what Andraste teaches.’_

The Inquisitor of course does not deny the existence of Andraste. It wasn’t fair to judge a religion based on its followers’ actions; many horrible events took place in Her name, so it was hard not to see through biased eyes. But Andraste was simply a woman, a remarkable woman who did remarkable things, but nothing more.

She grazed the stone with her fingertips and retreated her hand. “The humans tried to push this on my people. Tried so desperately to spread their false peace talks of Andraste. While killing those who didn’t believe. So many lives wasted to human ignorance, in Her name.” 

“Ignorance is not present in just humans, but I understand what you mean. Ignorance aside, you have to admire Andraste Herself. You’re a lot like her, in many ways.” 

The Inquisitor’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t joke around like that, Solas.” 

“Consider it for a moment. She came up as a slave in the Tevinter Imperium, a war leader in the first Exalted March. Sided with slaves and elves alike. Religious figure aside, she did great things. As you are now,” -- he brought up her scarred hand and ran his thumb across the torn flesh -- “except now you are trying to save Thedas against a greater evil. Like it or not lethallin, history will possibly make you out to be the next Andraste of your time.” 

This brought pause to the young Dalish woman. “That is… unnerving.” 

Solas laughed and let go of her hand. “Yes, well. You’d be quite the idol for other ‘unremarkable, lowly elven girls’ out there, yes? If not for yourself, then them.” 

Another pause. The Inquisitor looked up at the statue again, this time with a light in her eyes. She nudged against his side as they walked away from the statue. “How do you feel about becoming my adviser, Solas?”

“Is that a fancy title for one who encourages you from the sidelines? To ensure you believe in yourself when you falter?” 

Blood rushed to her cheeks. “Possibly. Is that such a burden?” 

“No. I just do not need to be your adviser to do that.”


End file.
